


By Leek and Lemongrass

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: This Spell We Cast [15]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Ada Cackle is a shameless tease and Hecate Hardbroom loves it, Day 27, Day 3, F/F, Stripping, TWW Valentine LemonFest 2019, another sprite if you will, mirror, more lime than lemon, playful fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: Hecate's been gone for a few days. During their nightly mirror call, Ada decides to remind her of what she's missing.





	By Leek and Lemongrass

**Author's Note:**

> This story is in the same universe as the Hackle Summer Trope Challenge series (which I JUST put into a collection as "Softly and Tenderly, We Begin"!!). Not that you need any background info to read this one. Just know that if you want to know more about Circe Hardbroom (and even a few little extra tidbits about Hecate's family dynamics surrounding her maternal grandmother), then you should go read that series because she runs wild throughout.

Despite the exhaustion weighing down every fiber of her being, Hecate felt a ripple of lightness as she settled before the mirror—seeing Ada’s smiling face ghosting over the pane made her own face break into a bright beam as well. With a wave of her hand, she answered the mirror call. The image of Ada became solid and clear, seated at her vanity, her room a cozy tableau behind her.

“Well met, Miss Cackle,” Hecate drawled, the corner of her mouth still hitched into a smile.

“Well met, my dear,” Ada was practically radiating with happiness. They were two absolute idiots, Hecate decided, acting as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages, when really it had been just a few days, all of which had been peppered with mirror calls and maglet messages. But it was rather nice, having your lovestruck idiocy matched.

Ada cast a careful glance over the sight in her mirror. It wasn’t that late, but Hecate was already dressed for bed, hair in a loose braid and body wrapped in her usual robe. It was odd, seeing her like that but not in the same room. The dark oak interior of Hecate’s grandmother’s house seemed oddly foreign, not quite right. Hecate dressed like that belonged here, with Ada.

She also took in the rings under Hecate’s eyes, the deeper lines around her mouth. Quietly, she asked, “How’s Circe?”

Hecate’s lips pressed into a thin line for a brief flash. “She’s well. There’s still much to sort through, but we’ve made good progress so far.”

Ada hummed in understanding. She knew that Hecate had not been particularly close with her maternal grandmother—Hester Hardbroom had been a family disgrace, giving birth to an illegitimate child and embracing the wildness of green magic—but Hecate’s younger sister Circe had enjoyed a solid relationship with the woman and had been deeply affected by her passing earlier that year. Circe had finally decided that she was able to move forward in sorting through Hester’s things, all of which had been bequeathed to her in Hester's will, and Hecate had agreed to help. It was the middle of term, but Ada had graciously stepped in to cover Hecate’s classes, and they’d even decided that once the weekend rolled around, Ada would come up to join Hecate for a rare little getaway in the countryside.

“And how are you?” Ada’s words were warmer, heavier with affection.

“Lonely,” Hecate’s tone was equally low, eyes simmering with an endearing bashfulness. Still, she pushed past her chagrin at her own mawkishness as she quietly confessed, “The beds in this house are…very big. And very empty.”

Ada understood the meaning behind her words. For over a year now, their nights had been spent together, with rare exceptions. And mornings meant waking and gently rolling back towards each other, happy and sleepy-soft-warm with love.

Hecate had already expressed this longing, in the message she’d sent to Ada’s maglet that very morning: _It’s much too cold, waking up without you. I yearn for warmth, the way the earth yearns for the return of the sun in spring. The feeling of your pulse beneath my lips. As soon as you're in my arms, that's where I will kiss you first. On the neck, right where I can feel your love beating, warm and certain and mine._

That message had definitely been saved. Hecate had truly delved into bettering her communication skills, over the past year. More than once, Ada had found a slim volume of poetry or a collection of great love letters tucked away on the bedside table that was on Hecate’s side of the bed—research, studying for future use, meticulously approaching her continued seduction of Ada Cackle as if it were her life’s work. It was so endearingly true to the woman’s determined nature that Ada never failed to feel a bubble of adoration at the thought.

“Two more days,” Ada promised, trying to soothe herself as much as the woman staring back at her with such unmasked longing.

“Two more days,” Hecate repeated, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile. Her eyes flitted to Ada's neck, right to the pulse point beneath her jaw, and Ada knew that she was thinking of the letter she'd sent this morning, too, the promise she'd made.

Ada felt heat ripple through her hips in response. Hecate shouldn’t be smiling like that, dressed like that, when she wasn’t here for Ada to act upon the feelings inspired by such an image.

Actually, Ada _could_ act upon them, she realized.

“I suppose I should be getting ready for bed, too,” Ada admitted. She saw the flicker of disappointment in Hecate’s expression and it took every ounce of self-control to keep a straight face.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s been a long day,” Hecate’s tone was neutral, her shoulders shifting in a silent sigh. Oh, how Ada loved this woman and her adorable attempts to never make Ada feel badly, to never ask for more than what was freely given.

Ada hummed in agreement, her hands easily undoing the first few buttons of her dress. The movement caught Hecate’s attention and the brunette shifted to fully face Ada again, eyes impossibly wide. Ada kept her tone as casual as ever as she spoke, “I gave your new layout design to Miss Gimlett—she agrees the adder’s tongue would do much better in the greenhouse on the northwest corner. She’s having the fourth years move the plants over the next few days. Hopefully we won’t lose too many to transplant shock.”

Hecate’s heart was slowing to deep, single pounds as she watched Ada’s hands continue down the line of her dress, the familiar slip of champagne silk edged in peach lace appearing as the dress fell open wider. Though she had a pretty good clue, she still heard herself asking, “Ada…what are you doing?”

Ada cocked her head to side curiously (as if she didn’t know exactly what Hecate was asking), trying not to grin at her lover’s expression, which was currently a set of dark red lips slightly parted and one eyebrow arched so high that it nearly disappeared into her hairline.

“I’m getting ready for bed, Hecate,” she said simply, as if she got undressed like this every single night.

Leave it to her deputy to call her out on it. “By hand. In front of your vanity.”

“I’m sorry, is there some clause in the witches code on how and where a witch should undress that I somehow missed?” Ada’s tone was filled with feigned concern, with more than a tinge of mockery. With a light sniff, she added, "Besides, I would think you'd be impressed with my multitasking. Efficiency being such a favorite virtue of yours."

Hecate’s lips twitched as they set in a thin line. _Virtuous_  was not a descriptor she would apply to the current situation (and she meant that in the warmest sense of appreciation and affection). After a beat of simply taking in the sight before her, she conceded, “I suppose you are…free to do as you please. In the name of efficiency, of course.”

"Of course." Ada beamed, rising to her feet and slipping out of her dress entirely. Now she vanished the item of clothing, turning to walk back to her wardrobe, adding a bit more sway to her hips than strictly necessary. She raised her voice as she continued, “The new field guide for wild herbs should arrive tomorrow. Would you like me to bring it with me, this weekend?”

“I…don’t expect to get much reading done,” Hecate admitted, her tone low and distracted. Ada knew this was because her back was currently turned to the mirror and she was rolling up on the balls of her feet to reach a robe folded on the top shelf of the wardrobe (yes, she could have magically called the item into her hands, and generally did, but that wouldn’t have been quite the show that this was).

“Oh? Pity,” Ada slipped into her robe. She didn’t bother tying the sash. It was a thing of orange and purple floral print, sheer and trimmed in champagne lace that ended just above her knees—it wasn’t for keeping warm anyways.

“Not the word I’d use to describe my weekend plans,” Hecate informed her.

Ada gave a hum of amusement. She delicately stepped out of her heels and set them inside the wardrobe—bending at the waist so that the edges of her slip and robe rose higher, revealing the tops of her stockings. She heard Hecate’s little noise in response and bit her lip to keep from grinning.

Hecate Hardbroom was fully aware that Ada was intentionally teasing her. But she knew that if she continued playing the straight man (she blanched slightly at the phrase, two things she’d never want to be compared to, never want to go near), then Ada’s antics would continue to grow more and more. It was a game they played, a teasing pastime that let Ada’s mischievous side come out with satisfying results for all.

Except they weren’t in the same room—not even in the same castle. So any satisfaction gained tonight would be solely from Hecate’s own hands. A rather unfulfilling consolation prize when compared to the warm and bubbly woman currently smiling back at her.

Still, this was part of the way Ada showed how much she missed her, how much she wanted her. Hecate would never deny the woman the chance to express herself. Really, it was just bad manners _not_ to let her.

Speaking of _bad_ —Ada was slowly moving back towards her vanity, the corners of her mouth curling in that pleased little smirk that informed Hecate exactly how aware she was of Hecate’s attention and all the effects she was having on her lover. Hecate felt her throat tighten. Oh, she had the distinct feeling that Ada Cackle was going to destroy her in the best of ways.

Ada returned to the little stool in front of her vanity, daintily pulling up the edges of her slip to reveal her garter straps. Without bothering to look up, she asked, “Will Circe keep the sheep?”

Hecate’s brain stuttered at the shift in conversation. Her grandmother had kept a small herd of sheep, which had continued to be looked after by another local until Circe could make a decision about them, as they were also part of her inheritance from Hester.

“Ah, no,” Hecate blinked, hard, tried to redirect her focus. But Ada’s hands were mesmerizing, slipping up the strap of her garters, lightly skimming back down again to unhook the clasps. “She’s found a buyer, they’ll be picked up this weekend.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fun to watch the lambs play about,” Ada offered a small smile as she leaned forward, slipping both stockings down her legs.

“Yes, they’re…lovely,” Hecate’s tone was distracted, and Ada wasn’t surprised to glance up and find the woman’s eyes on her breasts, which were pushing out the top of her slip due to her current position. With a grin, she vanished the stockings as well, making a rather theatrical point that her manual removal of them was just for show.

Hecate was leaning forward slightly, too, shifting to have a better view. She saw Ada’s grin in response and her stomach tightened with heat and longing all over again. Not for the first time, she wondered why she had ever doubted Ada’s feelings for her, how she’d gone so long without this in her life, how she’d survived the cold and lonely years before this became her warm and wonderful reality.

“Are you sure you can’t come up a day early?” She asked.

Ada laughed. “I have a school to run, Miss Hardbroom. In case you’ve forgotten.”

The way Ada’s tone trilled over her last name made Hecate shiver. Oh, she was being toyed with, a willing mouse to Ada’s cat. Her skin simmered with a desire to make it last as long as possible. And to eventually repay the torture, tenfold.

Ada was sitting up fully again, looking at her with a soft and serene expression as she quietly added, “But it’s much easier, when I have my deputy here.”

Now Hecate blushed like a schoolgirl being told she’s pretty by her first crush, her lips twisting into a pleased smirk. This was far from the first time Ada had expressed her gratitude, but oh, Hecate would never tire of her praise. With glowing cheeks, she said, “Well, I do take particular pride in my role.”

“You do, don’t you?” The warm delight in Ada’s tone sent another trill through Hecate’s body.

The brunette hummed in affirmation. She leaned forward, setting her elbows on the heavy wooden vanity, propping her chin in her hands as she suggested, “Perhaps you could…tell me how I could _ease_ your stress, once I’m back in my proper place?”

“You’ve always been rather intuitive,” Ada informed her easily. With a dramatic flair, she let her robe slip off her shoulders, letting it pool around her hips. She nonchalantly turned her attention to the items on her vanity as she added, “You’ve never been one to need micro-managing and direct supervision, my dear.”

“Ada.” She felt the edge of frustration in Hecate’s voice, could almost physically feel the way the woman’s teeth tested the edge of her name. But she was playing by her rules tonight, and she needed to push the woman further, just a bit.

“What?” Ada looked up innocently. She held up a jar in explanation. “I’m getting ready for bed, Hecate, I do have things to do.”

Hecate’s eyes were wide again, the inside of her cheek twitching. She knew the jar—Ada’s moisturizer, the one Hecate had made specifically for her. It smelled of Queen Anne’s roses and had forever taken over their sheets with the scent. It was the reason Hecate always wore non-scented products—she loved having the hint of Ada on her skin when she began her day, the scent she could still detect when she stood particularly close to her headmistress on the lawn, or when she leaned in to whisper something at the dining table. She loved the way it blended with her own perfume, a olfactory representation of how they blended together, twisting and curling around each other beneath soft pink sheets, warm and satisfying.

Two whole days before she could awaken to bury her face in warm sleepy skin that held the bloom of roses. Two long, agonizing days until she could taste it on her tongue again.

“Ada Cackle, you are a woman of cruelty beyond measure,” Hecate’s tone was low, reverent, completely at-odds with her words. She watched quietly as Ada applied the crème down the line of her neck, over the tops of breasts which were now wonderfully flushed, over the curve of shoulders that Hecate knew felt divine beneath her teeth.

“I don’t see how basic self-care is cruelty,” Ada remained intentionally oblivious, feigning concentration on her task—in reality, she felt Hecate’s gaze as keenly as if it were the woman’s fingertip, tracing along her skin.

“I could summon you here in a heartbeat.” Hecate’s threat was so heavy and hot that Ada felt a familiar pull of heat in her hips.

“That kind of stunt would leave you so drained that you’d collapse as soon as you did it,” Ada returned easily.

“I’m sure you’d find a way to revive me.” The wry tone in Hecate’s words made Ada grin as well.

“Well, I would do my very best,” Ada agreed, finally turning her attention back to Hecate. Even through the mirror, her blue eyes were searing, and Hecate’s body jumped as if it had been hit by a giant pin-prick. “After all, I need you, Hecate Hardbroom.”

Hecate let out a soft whine at the way Ada said her name, warm and caressing, all the things her hands should be doing to Hecate’s body right now.

“You are such a wicked thing,” Hecate’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes so dark that Ada felt she could drown in them. She was leaning forward, as if she could simply push through the mirror and into Ada’s lap. Her voice stayed low and shaking with need, “Knowing full well that I’m going to have to go to bed aching for you—”

“You don’t, though, do you?” Ada challenged. The shark-like sharpness of her grin informed Hecate that she had finally reached her intended destination, the point she’d set out to reach from the moment she’d begun this long-distance seduction. “You could…ease the pressure right now, couldn’t you?”

Hecate watched her with wide and wanting eyes. Finally, she said, “I should tell you no. It would serve you right, for teasing me so horribly.”

“True,” Ada purred, nodding her head in innocent-eyed agreement. “I have been terribly naughty, and I know you’re quite strict about that sort of thing so…I do understand, if you decide to say no.”

Oh, the woman was going to be the death of Hecate Hardbroom, and she knew it. She saw the way Hecate gripped the wooden edge of the vanity, trying to fight her own impulses.

Then those lovely, expressive hands relaxed, slowly rising to the neck of Hecate’s robe. Ada’s thighs quivered in a silent hallelujah as pale fingers pulled the robe further back, off strong shoulders and arms.

The rest of the room was so dark that Hecate’s skin seemed to glow in comparison. Her chest was flushed, almost beet-red, and Ada’s palms ached as they imagined how hot that skin was, how delicious it would feel beneath her tongue. As usual, Hecate wore nothing beneath her simple black night dress, and the easy-shifting softness beneath the thin material made Ada bite back a moan. She could see the hard outlines of Hecate's nipples through the fabric, her teeth longing to gingerly press against them, knowing exactly what kind of sounds Hecate would make in response.

Hecate’s hands were on the move again, pulling up the long skirt and slowly bringing more bare skin into view. One hand slipped further into the shadows of Hecate’s thighs—Ada leaned forward, straining to see every ripple, imagining the effects of every movement.

The other hand rested against the mirror pane, fingertip lightly tapping to bring the blonde’s attention back to Hecate’s face, which was smirking in absolute triumph.

“Actions have consequences, Miss Cackle.” Her tone was hard but her eyes were dancing. “And I’m a _firm_ believer in enforcing them.”

With a dramatic flourish, she tapped the pane. The mirror went back to reflecting Ada’s own image, wide-eyed and flushed.

She sat there for a full beat. Then she began to laugh.

_Oh, Hecate Hardbroom. Two more days, and then we’ll see about consequences._


End file.
